


Sunlight On A Broken Column

by Scarlet



Category: The Fall (TV)
Genre: 3x01, Comfort, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-11-09
Packaged: 2018-08-18 22:25:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8178359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlet/pseuds/Scarlet
Summary: Reed brings Stella food. 3X01 missing scene.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Since Reed isn't in series 3 of The Fall. I thought fanfic should fix this. :-)

“Visiting hours are over. You shouldn’t be here,” a young, distinctly Irish voice says besides Stella.

The nurse’s tone is kind but firm. Stella releases the old woman’s hand, experiences a fleeting sense of loss when she does.

She stands up.

The nurse reaches out to pat Stella’s arm. “Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of her.”

Stella nods, doesn’t bother to explain she’s not a relative. The stillness of the past few minutes has been enough to let exhaustion catch up with her.

Her gaze slides over Rose as she walks out of the room, then shifts to the drawn blinds hiding Spector from view. They can’t be more than a few yards from one another (something will need to be done about that. Tomorrow, tomorrow…)

The predator and the prey. Both hurt. Both helpless.

Stella isn’t sure what kind of life lesson this is supposed to be.

~~~

Back inside the room that has been assigned to her, Stella peels her clothes off and retrieves her grey long sleeved t-shirt and a pair of soft black trousers from the bag Gail brought her earlier. There is a door leading to a small bathroom to her right. She badly wants to take a shower, but doesn’t want to be caught-off guard if something were to happen. Her position as SIO is precarious enough as it is. Someone is going to have to take the blame for this mess, and Stella suspects many fingers are going to be pointing in her direction in the days to come.

_I stood up for you, Stella._

_I also told the chief that I could manage you._

Jim's words suggests she has become a liability. This much is clear. She wonders if his show of support is his way of making amends for his past behaviour. Not that it matters. She suspects he will stand up for her as long as it serves his interests. After that...

There are a couple of towels on the hospital bed behind her. Stella picks one up, and, after dampening it under the tap, cleans herself up as best as she can. There are pink streaks on the towel after she wipes her stomach and for a moment, she is back in the woods, her hand pressed on Spector’s wound, his blood warm and thick under her palm, oozing between her fingers like red ink. She feels lightheaded, her mouth tastes sour from too much coffee and too little sleep. She quickly rinses the towel, leaves it on the edge of the sink before getting dressed.

She sits on the bed, rubs her eyes with the heels of her hands, then lets herself fall backwards across the mattress. She stares up at the pitted square tiles on the ceiling, her mind buzzing with white noise, her body growing heavier by the second.

She’s about to close her eyes when there’s a soft knock on the door.

_Go away._

Stella wants to ignore it, but knows she can’t. She sits up wearily. “Come, in.”

The door opens. Something tightens inside Stella’s chest at the sight of Professor Reed Smith standing in the doorway. It feels like a lifetime since they last saw each other even though it’s just been a couple of days.

“Hey,” the woman says. She’s in her usual biking attire, holding a brown paper bag in one hand.

Stella’s lips curve up. “What are you doing here?" It’s too late for visiting hours, not to mention that only close family members are allowed in the ICU. Reed would know all this. She can’t possibly be here to see Rose.

Reed holds up the paper bag. “I figured you probably didn’t have time to eat anything.”

“How kind.” Stella isn’t used to other people worrying about her needs.

Reed closes the door behind her and steps forward. “I hope you like burgers,” she says, handing her the bag.

“I do, thanks.” The warm smell of bread and meat wafting up as Stella opens the bag makes her stomach rumble. It’s been a long time since the dry piece of toast she had in a rush this morning.

Reed perches herself on the end of the bed, folding a leg underneath her and shoving her hands in the pockets of her waxed leather jacket.

“I talked to Tom. He told me Rose was stable?”

Stella nods, while unwrapping her food. “She should be fine physically. Psychologically…” she lets her words trail off, looking up at Reed, watching her colleague’s jaw clench as she acknowledges this.

“Thank God she’s got Tom and her family to help her get through this,” Reed says.

Stella takes a bite of her burger, chews slowly. “Tom is angry,” she says after a while.

“That’s to be expected. I’m angry too,” Reed says her eyes dark.

Stella holds her gaze. “He’s angry at Rose. I talked to him, he doesn’t understand why she followed Spector so easily.”

Reed’s eyes go wide, pulls her hands out of her pockets. “What? This is ridiculous. She didn’t have a choice. By doing so she probably thought she was protecting her family.”

Stella nods. “That’s what I told him. I explained that compliance didn’t mean consent. Rose was simply terrified Spector would hurt him and the children if she didn’t do what he said.”

“And he would have. We saw what happened to Joe Brawley,” Reed adds bitterly.

Stella wraps what’s left of her burger and puts it back in the brown paper bag, her appetite gone. “You may want to talk to Tom, insist how important it is for Rose’s recovery that he doesn’t tell her any of this. She’ll blame herself already enough as it is.”

Reed nods firmly. “I will.”

Stella reaches out for the water bottle on the bedside table. “God, I need a drink,” she sighs.

Reed catches her eyes. “How are you?”

Stella stares at her. Reed is the first person to ask her that today.

“What?” Reed asks with a frown.

Stella shakes her head, “nothing. Just tired. It’s been a long day.”

“I bet. What the hell happened out there?”

Stella takes a sip of water before answering. “Spector lead us to Rose into Sieve Dove Forest. We’d just found her in the trunk of his car when Jimmy Tyler emerged from the woods and started shooting. Spector took two bullets in the abdomen and detective Anderson took one in the arm before PC Ferrington took him down.”

Reed rubs her hands over her jeans, taking this in. “So, that’s how Tyler’s body ended up in my morgue this afternoon." She pauses before asking: "how did he know where to find you?”

Stella shakes her head. “I don’t know.”

“Is Spector dead?”

“No. He’s in critical condition but he’s still alive.” Stella points her chin towards the door. “He’s in the ICU down there.”

Reed doesn’t say anything for a long time. Then: “I hope he lives. I hope he lives and faces justice.”

 _I knew there was a reason I liked you._ Stella thinks but doesn't say. 

Reed rubs the bridge of her nose, hesitates. “Are they going to blame you for what happened?”

Stella shrugs. “Probably.”

Reed reaches out to catch her hand. “If I can do anything to help, let me know.”

Stella stares down at the hand covering hers, smiles. “You brought me food, you are helping.”

Reed laughs and the sound is like a balm on Stella's bruised soul. 

The pathologist pats her hand, then stands up. “I’d better go, let you get some rest.”

Stella catches her wrist on impulse. “Tanya”.

Reed looks down. “What?”

Stella releases her, lowers her head. “Nothing. Thank you for coming.”

Reed shoots her an odd look, takes a few steps closer. “Lie down.”

Stella frowns. “What?”

“Just lie down.” Reed’s voice is soft as silk, but commading in an almost motherly way, and Stella, who in normal circumstances, doesn't like being ordered around by anyone, is simply to tired to argue. She lies down on her side, rests her head on the white hospital pillow.

Reed disappears from her field of vision and Stella hears the faint click of a light being switched off. The small room goes dark. A minute or so later, Stella feels the shift on the mattress as Reed climbs onto the bed behind her and two surprisingly strong arms wrap themselves around her. She feels Reed’s legs tangle with her own, her socks warm against her shins through the fabric of her trousers. 

“I didn’t -” Stella starts saying, breathing in leather and a faint hint of floral perfume. 

“Shhh… you had a rough day. Let me do this.”

Stella grins because doing so is the only way to keep the well of emotions bubbling up inside her at bay. “Did Croydon suddenly disappear from the map?”

Reed’s chuckle is warm against her neck. “Something like that. Close your eyes,” she says, stroking the length of her arm.

Stella does.

~~~

Reed is gone when Stella wakes up. As she yawns and sits up on the bed, she notices a scrap of paper on the bedside table. A few words are scrawled on it, in the barely legible penmanship of someone in the medical profession. 

_'You snore. Have a good day, I'll call you later. X'_

Stella guesses that the spiky hieroglyph underneath must be Reed's signature.

She smiles. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3X02 - Missing Scene.  
> Stella & Reed meet for a drink after work.

 

The hospital corridor is eerily quiet when Stella leaves the room that was assigned to her, where, thanks to Reed, she managed to grab a few hours of dreamless sleep. Stella walks by a handful of nurses, entering and leaving rooms, attending to their duties. She checks her watch: 6 am.  
  
She is putting coins in one of the hospital vending machine, when she spots Eastwood walking towards her.  
  
“You’re up early,” she tells him. He’s freshly shaven, and his suit is neatly pressed, but Stella can see the tiredness stretching his eyes. He probably didn’t sleep much. She suspects nobody from their task force did.  
  
Eastwood runs a hand through his grey hair. “Have you been here all night?”  
  
“I have. They gave me a room. I didn’t want to leave, just in case…” she waves a hand, then picks up her coffee, the paper cup blissfully warm against her chilled fingers. When she decided to stick around last night, she knew rationally, there was no way Paul Spector would get out of his bed and hurt anyone, but there had been this sense of foreboding within her, she simply couldn’t shake off. And she’d grown up watching horror movies where the killer would spring back to life when least expected; not that she would ever admit this weighed in any way in her final decision.

What she needs now is a swim, then a hot shower. “I have a meeting with the Ombudsman at ten, I’m heading back to the Merchant.”  
  
Eastwood nods,“How’s Rose doing?”  
  
“She’s stable.”  
  
“That’s good news. And Anderson?”  
  
Stella shoots him a look, but there’s nothing there that shouldn’t be, just concern about a fellow colleague. Stella is grateful for that.  
  
“Worried about his arm,” she replies, “he fears the nerve damage may be permanent.”  
  
Eastwood winces. “Let’s hope it won’t be. He’s a fine officer, it would be a shame to lose him.”  
  
Stella doesn’t say anything.  
  
_Why did you run to him?_  
  
She knows she did the right thing. Spector would be dead if she hadn’t. But Anderson’s accusation still smarts.  
  
“What about our suspect?” Eastwood’s voice pulls her back to the present.  
  
“Still critical. They removed his spleen yesterday and are waiting for him to be stronger to resume the surgery.”  
  
Eastwood’s gaze hardens.  
  
Stella reaches out for his arm. “It’s better for us if he makes it. The way things went down, we’ll be in enough trouble as it is without a dead suspect.”  
  
Eastwood sighs. “I know.”  
  
“He needs to face justice. For the victims. For their families,” she adds.  
  
Eastwood grunts. Stella guesses that even if he understands her logic, the man in him wishes Spector wouldn’t make it. To someone like Eastwood, Spector is an aberration, a stain on the male brotherhood. Something to be erased rather than acknowledged. And she’d be lying if she hadn’t wished at times Spector were dead too. But she serves justice, and justice is Paul spending the rest of his life in prison, powerless and unable to satisfy his urges. Death for a man like him is mercy. And he doesn’t deserve any more mercy than he showed his victims.  
  
Stella lets her hand drop and walks away.  
  
~~~  
  
The rest of her day is a whirlwind of inquisitions, frustrations and unwelcome discoveries. The Ombudsman’s SIO’s questions have left Stella unsettled. She hadn’t expected to be interviewed under caution. And the woman’s refusal to answer when she asked if she’d committed an offence, had made warning bells ring inside her head. Stella answered the questions as calmly and efficiently as she could, but it was obvious she was in the direct line of fire... so to speak.  
  
And on top of everything, they may now have nine other victims to worry about.  
  
Her phone rings as she gets in her car, parked outside the storage unit owned by Spector. Stella answers it without looking at the screen.  
  
“Gibson.”  
  
“Hey.”  
  
It's Reed. Stella feels herself relax, the pathologist’s voice is like a lungful of fresh air in the rarefied atmosphere she feels she’s been wading in of late. She smiles against her phone. “So... I snore?”  
  
“Just a little. It's cute.”  
  
Stella rolls her eyes. 'Cute' is not a word commonly used to describe her. “Where are you?”  
  
“Still at work.”  
  
“Tyler’s body?”  
  
“Indeed. You?”  
  
“Just finishing.”  
  
There is a long pause on the other end, then, “do you still need that drink?” Reed asks.  
  
Stella senses the slight hesitation curling up like mist around her colleague's words. Maybe she should turn the offer down, head back to her hotel and sleep. But it's still early, and her head is reeling with the events of the day. She needs something to take her mind off things, a distraction... and Professor Reed Smith is very... distracting.  
  
“More than ever,” she replies.  
  
“There's a nice pub within walking distance of your hotel. Let me give you the address.”  
  
Stella jots down the directions on the corner of her pad. “I'll see you there,” she says before hanging up.

Stella angles the rear-view mirror towards her, runs her fingers through her hair in an attempt to smooth it down. Her reflection lifts a knowing eyebrow. “What?” Stella smirks at it under her breath.

She pushes the mirror back in its normal position and starts the car.  
  
~~~  
  
Stella arrives first, orders two whiskeys and finds an empty booth in a far corner of the pub. The place is quiet, with only a few patrons sitting at the bar and at a few dark oak tables. Folk Irish music Stella doesn’t recognise plays softly in the background. She takes her coat off, and, after folding it next to her, lifts her head to see Reed entering the pub, helmet in hand. The pathologist smiles as she sees her and Stella feels something warm radiate from a point deep below her sternum.  
  
“I ordered for you, I hope you don’t mind,” Stella says as Reed sits down opposite her.  
  
“It’s fine, thanks.” Reed unzips her leather jacket, revealing the striped white and blue shirt Stella saw her wear on a few previous occasions.

The professor lifts her glass. “What are we drinking to?”  
  
“The end of this day,” Stella replies, as they clink their glasses together.  
  
“That bad, uh?”  
  
“Not great,” Stella replies before bringing the glass to her lips. The liquid is a smooth fire rush down her throat, and it helps the tension in her limbs ease a little.  
  
Reed lifts an eyebrow. Stella shakes her head, making it clear she doesn’t want to talk about it.  
  
“PC Ferrington is a good shot. Her bullet went straight through James Tyler’s heart.” Reed informs Stella.  
  
“There could have been many more casualties if she hadn’t been,” Stella says, taking another sip of whiskey.  
  
“I'm still wondering how on earth Tyler knew where you were.”  
  
Stella shrugs. “People talk. I suspect someone from inside the station tipped him off.”  
  
Reed turns her glass between her fingers, and Stella notices, not for the first time, that her colleague doesn’t wear a ring. “This is Belfast, allegiances run deep,” Reed says.  
  
“So I’ve heard. Which team are you on?”  
  
Reed chuckles, “I’m team science. My parents are Sikh, though, so I go along with that too, more out of a sense of family tradition that anything else, you know?"

Stella nods her understanding. 

"What about you?” Reed asks.   
  
“C of E, technically, but not practising. I never had much time for religion.”  
  
Reed acknowledges this with a nod, fidgets with her glass for a few seconds. “Is Spector religious, you think?”  
  
“I doubt it. He’s a big Nietzsche fan, according to what we read in his journals.”  
  
“A nihilist. Figures.”  
  
“I’m not sure what he is, besides a slave to his urges, who uses philosophy to justify his actions.”  
  
Reed nods again and they stay silent for a while, nursing their drinks.  
  
“Thank you. For last night,” Stella says softly.  
  
Reed holds her gaze, smiles. It’s a pretty, gentle smile which warms Stella up more than the whiskey she’s drinking. It helps her remember there is more kindness in the world than ugliness. Her line of work makes this so easy to forget.  
  
“Glad I could help.” The pathologist casts a glance sideways. “That guy is checking you out,” she says casually, tilting her chin in the direction of the bar counter where a few men are drinking.  
  
Stella doesn’t even bother to look. She does note, however, how quick Reed was at changing the subject. “He might have seen my face in the papers. I’m a tabloid sensation,” she shrugs.  
  
Reed lowers her head, hesitates, “did you know Olson was married? Before... ” she lets her words trail off, running an absent finger around the rim of her glass.  
  
Stella finishes her drink, straightens up. “No.” She waits for Reed to look up. “Are you?”  
  
Reed scoffs, shakes her head. “Why do you want to know?” And the inflection in her summer-warm voice when she says this, ignites sparks along Stella’s spine.  
  
“You told me you have two daughters but you’re not wearing a ring.”  
  
“Then you don’t need me to answer, Detective Superintendent," Reed teases.  
  
Stella makes a small sound in the back of her throat. Reed points at Stella's empty glass, still grinning, "one more?"  
  
Stella nods. While Reed heads for the bar to order, she checks her phone. There are a couple of text messages from Jim asking about the Ombudsman’s review she doesn’t feel like answering right now. She shoves her phone back in her coat pocket, and turns her head to take in Reed’s slender figure as she leans against the bar, waiting to be served.

There is a stillness in the woman, a quiet strength which, for some odd reason, reminds Stella of the lakes she used to hike to with her father, a peacefulness she feels irresistibly drawn to.

She’s getting attached, knows she shouldn’t.

Reed comes back holding two glasses and sits back down. Stella nods her thanks.

“Rose is back home,” Reed says after taking a small sip from her new whiskey.

“I know. She discharged herself from the ICU.”

“Spector was there too, wasn’t he? Do you think she saw him?”

 _Something spooked her_. Hagstrom’s words echo inside Stella’s head, but she doesn't deem necessary to tell Reed what she told the young officer: that Rose might have sensed his presence.

“I don’t think so. He was kept in a separate room. I talked to her doctor. He said she left earlier than he’d liked but that he couldn’t keep her against her will. He gave Tom strict instructions and he’s also arranged for a nurse to visit Rose at home.” Stella brings her glass near her lips. “Did you talk to her?”

Reed shakes her head as Stella swallows some of her drink, “no, she was asleep when I called, I only talked to Tom.”

“How was he?”

“Relieved, but tired and worried. He…” Reed’s voice catches in her throat and she lowers her head to stare at her hand resting on the table next to her glass.

Stella reaches out to gently cover Reed’s fingers with her own. She waits for Reed to compose herself, stroking the soft brown skin under her thumb.

Reed takes a deep breath, looks up at Stella, her dark eyes gone a little bright. “He said he isn’t sure it’s the same Rose who came back.”

Stella nods. “She won’t be. An ordeal like this would change anybody,” she squeezes Reed’s hand, “she’ll be different, but she’s strong. They’ll adjust.”

Reed shoots her a joyless smile, “that’s pretty much what I told him.”

Stella gives Reed’s hand a final stroke before letting go.

Reed stares at her hand for a few seconds, then gives a little shake of her head. “So much for trying to take your mind off that case. Let’s talk about something else, shall we?”

“That’s okay,” Stella smiles, “but sure.”

Reed asks where Stella lives in London and they talk for a while about their favourite places, restaurants and museums. They discover they share a common disdain for Oxford Street, agree the prices of public transports are a rip-off and that the District line is terribly unreliable. Stella isn't big on small talk but this easy conversation about normal, everyday things helps her feel more grounded. 

They finish their drinks eventually and decide it’s time to call it a night. Stella stands up. “Do you swim?” she asks, as she puts her coat on.  
  
“Do I… what?” Reed frowns up at her.  
  
“I like to swim before going to work. You could join me tomorrow morning,” Stella explains.  
  
Reed slips into her jacket then stands up as well. “You want me to go swim with you?” she asks, picking up her helmet.  
  
Stella grins. “Why not?”  
  
Reed laughs, runs a quick hand over her face.  
  
“It’s just a swim,” Stella says, as they start walking out.  
  
“Okay. Maybe,” Reed says, stopping in front of her bike, outside.  
  
Stella lifts an eyebrow, takes a few steps closer as Reed zips her jacket up. “Maybe?”  
  
Reed holds her eyes, then lifts a hand to tuck a wisp of blonde hair behind Stella’s ear, the gesture simple, yet incredibly intimate. “All right. Yes,” she replies softly, before putting her helmet on and closing the visor.  
  
Stella watches Reed’s bike disappear down the damp street. She looks down at her long shadow on the pavement, cast by the yellow street light above her, a secret smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

She likes Reed. She likes Reed a lot.

Stella takes a deep breath in, relishing in the smell of rain mixed with the faint mineral one of asphalt. She’s been surrounded by so much darkness these past weeks, so much death, that it has felt like life was seeping out of her too.

But as she stands outside in the cold Belfast air, she wants to throw her head back and shout “fuck you, we’re alive” to the night skies. The irony that a pathologist helped her feel this way isn’t lost on her.

Stella runs her hands through her hair then shoves them in the pockets of her black coat and starts walking back towards her hotel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much to thefallfiles/[stanafuckingkatic ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/stanafuckingkatic/)for the beta. :-)


End file.
